Bu Zai Jimo
by X-I-L2048
Summary: Two lonely nations, the last of their kind, roam the galaxy, waiting for the day when they will finally be allowed to be at rest like the original nations of the Earth-That-Was. What happens when they're finally granted their wish?


_****Important Note | For those of you that may have stumbled across this without intentionally looking for it****_

_**Hetalia: Axis Powers **_ A webcomic and anime in which the characters are anthropomorphic representations of countries - in other words, countries as people.

_**Firefly |**_ A sci-fi television series set about five hundred years in the future, in which humanity inhabits a new star system after using Earth up. (Credit goes to PwnedByPineapple for the above descriptions)

This story is a sequel/epilogue to PwnedByPineapple's fics "no one man should have all that power," and her alternate continuation in the same universe "Irresistible Force." If you haven't read at least the former first, this will make little to no sense. Translations for the Chinese dialogue are in the author's notes at the end.

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><p><strong>Disclaimers:<strong>  
><strong>Firefly is Joss Whedon's. Axis Powers Hetalia is Himaruya Hidakez's. Crossover concept is PwnedByPineapple's. Story is mine. All unrecognizable characters are the property of myself andor PwnedByPineapple.**

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><p>Alfred F. Jones, formerly known as the United States of America, has always loved cities. Granted, he loves mountains, prairies, oceans, and any number of other landscapes and settings too, but there's just something about a town or city that automatically puts him in a good mood. Or maybe it's just the amazingly good fried chicken he just bought that's making him feel more chipper than usual.<p>

"Don't stuff your face, aru," Wang Yao, once known as the nation of China, says to him as they walk down the bustling street of the thriving town. "It's most unbecoming."

"Yes, _Dad_," Alfred says around his mouthful of chicken, blissfully ignoring the irritated look Yao shoots at him. He swallows and gestures with the leg he's currently eating toward a dusty stall on the opposite side of the road. "Hey, look, Yao! Noodles! You wanna get some?"

Yao considers. "All right," he finally says. "Wait here, though," he adds hastily, seeing the predatory grin spread over Alfred's face at the thought of more food. "I wouldn't want you to scare the shop owner. I swear, you're a bottomless pit at times."

Alfred childishly sticks his tongue out at the older nation before taking another bite of chicken. "I haven't eaten in two weeks, Yao; give me a break!"

"Yes, and if I hadn't convinced that nice tradesman to let us hitchhike to this planet, instead of leaving us on that ice moon like he was going to, I daresay you would have gone longer without that luxury. You are welcome, by the way."

"Hey! How would I have known that Cheyenne was uninhabited after the Reavers came through a couple years ago? The guidebook _said_there were a few settlements on it."

"You could have asked the pilot who dropped us off, aru. He said he didn't think anyone lived there now, but no-"

"Yeah, yeah, go get the noodles already." Alfred flaps a chicken wing toward the stand dismissively, not liking where the conversation is heading. Yao complies, but not before nonchalantly snatching the wing right out of Alfred's hand, earning an indignant squawk from the taller man.

"_Fēi cháng g__ǎ__n xiè_, Alfred!" Yao calls, not turning around as he waves a hand. In a couple of seconds, he disappears into the bustling crowd. Alfred, muttering to himself, fishes out another drumstick from the wicker basket where the remaining pieces of chicken lie, waiting to be consumed. As he raises the piece to his mouth, he catches a flash of spring green out of the corner of his eye. Mildly curious, he looks to the side and sees a pair of bright yellow eyes, staring back at him from behind a rain barrel in the alley beside a fabric store. They belong to a small child, no more than three years old. It's staring at his chicken as if nothing else exists in the world.

"You hungry, little munchkin?" Alfred chuckles, wandering over and crouching down to be at eye level with the child. The kid licks its lips and sighs longingly, and Alfred can now see the tattered state of its clothes, the unwashed face, the uncut hair. He can't for the life of him tell what gender it is. Alfred frowns for a moment before he gives the child his most winning smile and holds the drumstick out invitingly. The toddler ducks behind the rain barrel at the sudden movement, like a scared puppy.

"I'm not gonna hurt ya, kid," Alfred soothes, still holding the food out. "C'mon, go ahead and eat it. I've got plenty." He hefts the basket he holds in the crook of one arm. The child peeks out from behind the barrel, as if not quite believing what it's hearing. "Well, if you don't want it…" Alfred makes as if to draw his arm back, and the kid suddenly darts out from its hiding place, snatches the chicken, and starts stuffing its face, not even bothering to run back. Alfred smiles wider, ruffles the tot's hair, and settles himself against the wall, folding his lanky legs Indian-style underneath him. He's just started in on another piece when the kid, having bolted down its first in record time, shuffles closer to him, smiling shyly. Alfred pats his knee invitingly, and that's all the encouragement the child needs.

* * *

><p>Yao returns five minutes later to find his companion nowhere in sight. "Aiyaa," he mutters in exasperation. "Where did he run off to now?" Something bounces off his leg, and he looks down in surprise to see a young girl, around seven or eight years of age, blinking dazedly up at him from where she's sprawled out in the dust of the road.<p>

"_O, w__ǒ__ de_, are you alright, _xi__ǎ__o hái zi_?" he asks worriedly, extending a hand to the child. She takes it gratefully, and he pulls her up, noting with some concern how her cheeks are too thin, and her clothes seem too large for such a small body. One she regains her feet, she bows respectfully.

"Thank you, sir," she says. "I'm sorry for running into you."

"No harm done," he responds, smiling. "May I inquire as to where you were going in such a hurry?"

"I'm looking for my little brother." Worry clouds the girl's bright golden eyes. "I told him to stay by the front steps to the fabric shop, but he's not there anymore."

"Isn't that odd?" Yao quirks one eyebrow. "A friend of mine is missing as well." A peal of loud laughter interrupts him, coming from the alleyway between two buildings. Yao rolls his eyes. "Never mind, child. I believe I have found him."

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><p>Whatever Yao was expecting to find, it certainly was not the blonde ex-nation sitting between a half-empty rain barrel and a garbage bin, with a small, disheveled child happily eating fried chicken on his lap.<p>

"Hey, Yao!" Alfred, catching sight of him, waves and flashes him a bright grin. "Anthony here was just telling me how he has a pet mouse named Kiki at home. Isn't that right, Anthony?" The child, whose eyes had grown wide and scared at the sight of this new arrival, relaxes as his newfound friend addresses the stranger in such a familiar manner. He nods shyly.

"Anthony?" The little girl rushes up to the boy and pulls him off Alfred's lap, giving him a hard shake. "What have I told you about running off? I was worried sick!" She turns to Alfred. "I'm so sorry, sir. He didn't mean to be any trouble. We're sorry for bothering you."

"Not at all," Alfred replies easily, getting to his feet in one fluid motion. "I'm always happy to meet a new friend. I'm Alfred, and he's Yao. What's your name, little lady?"

"Angelica," she replies bashfully, taking hold of her brother's hand.

"Pleased to meet you, Miss Angelica," Alfred returns, sweeping off his cowboy hat and making an exaggerated, theatrical bow. Yao rolls his eyes and the children giggle. "Now, would you do me the honor of deignin' to accept a small gift?" He holds the basket of chicken out to her, and Angelica steps back, protesting.

"Oh no, Mister Alfred, sir." She shakes her head. "Mama says we're not to accept charity. We don't beg."

"Well then, Miss Angelica, how 'bout we swap for it?" He nods toward the blue satin ribbon holding her dark, curly hair back. "That there's a pretty ribbon. What do you say? One ribbon for," he quickly counts the pieces left in the basket, "five pieces of chicken. Seems like a fair trade to me."

"Well…" Angelica looks at the chicken, unable to keep the yearning look off her dirt-smeared face. "I suppose… if you really like it…"

"Oh, I do," Alfred assures her. "Blue's one of my favorite colors. Honest."

"Okay." She tugs the ribbon loose, making her hair tumble down around her shoulders, and holds it out to the tall man. "It's a deal." They shake on it, and Alfred hands the basket over to the girl. She then scurries off, her brother in tow.

"You really are hopeless, aru," Yao observes as Alfred waves goodbye, all sunshine and smiles. "What in the 'Verse are you going to do with a blue ribbon? What about your food?"

"This," replies the blonde, and he ties the ribbon to the drawstring of his hat. "There. How do I look?"

"_Kěxiào_," comes the dry response.

"You have no fashion sense. Anyway, those kids were hungry. You would have done the same." This last is 100% true, and they both know it. "I don't see any noodles," Alfred observes after a moment, as the two make their way back to the street. "What gives?"

"I remembered that you're the one currently carrying the money."

"Well, why didn't ya say so? Last one to the stand has to do the dishes at the inn tonight!" Alfred takes off running.

"Alfred! Aiyaa!" Yao chases after him, but barely makes it a few feet before the world explodes in a blast of searing flame.

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><p>When Alfred comes to, he's laying face down in a pile of broken, splintered wood. His body throbs, and there's smoke everywhere. He stands up stiffly, rubbing his forehead and wincing as his fingers find a sore spot. He coughs as smoke fills his lungs, and when he brings his fingers away, they're wet with blood. Something lunges at him out of the smoke, and Alfred draws his pistol and fires instinctively. The thing screeches and collapses in a heap at his feet. Alfred stares numbly at the mutilated, disheveled body, dread growing in the pit of his stomach.<p>

"Oh my God," he whispers. "No. Not here. Please, not here." A fit of coughing interrupts him, and he quickly abandons the body, bolting towards the wall it just crashed through. Outside is complete pandemonium. Screams fill the air, the most prominent being the dreaded cry of "Reavers!"

The terrifying creatures are everywhere. Alfred's never seen so many at one time. Granted, he makes a habit of not trying to see them wherever possible, but still. The realization comes crashing into his mind like a falling piano: Where is Yao? That thought propels him into immediate action.

He jumps the five feet or so from the side of the building to the ground, and hits the dirt running. Panic fills his heart as he shoots one Reaver and sends another flying twenty feet from the force of his inhumanly strong punch. He tells himself he's being paranoid, that Yao's a big boy, that he can take care of himself, that you don't need to worry, Al, get a grip, get a grip, get a grip!

_Except you couldn't take care of yourself last time_, a little voice whispers to his mind, sending the hairs on the back of his neck prickling at the recollection of things he _really_ doesn't want to remember. _Neither of you could. And you know better than anyone left alive in this Godforsaken galaxy that there are many things in this universe that are so much worse than death. _

He growls and shoots two Reavers who are dragging a hysterical woman into the shadows between two buildings.

_So. _

Vaulting over an overturned cart, he ducks under a wild axe swing from another rabid creature, pulls his knife from its sheath, and plunges it between two of the creature's ribs before yanking it back out and resuming his mad dash toward the two buildings where he last saw Yao.

_Much. _

He swears vehemently as he sees that the buildings have collapsed, forming a burning barrier between him and where he needs to be. Hopefully, the Chinese nation's just on the other side of the buildings and wasn't caught between them when they collapsed. It wouldn't kill him, but it would still hurt like hell.

_Worse. _

"Shut _up! _" he snarls, picking off another three Reavers and mentally thanking Providence that his gun won't run out of ammo. A shadow blocks out the sun, and he looks up to see the biggest Reaver ship he's ever seen hovering in the sky above the town. The docking bay door is open, and a large flaming object drops out of it, heading straight for the building right in front of Alfred.

He hits the dirt just as the projectile smashes into the building, prompting even more screams from the already hysterical townsfolk. Scrambling to his feet, he darts through the stampeding crowd, taking out Reavers whenever he gets the chance. As he rounds the corner of the block, he sees a snarling Reaver make a flying leap for two small figures huddled against a wall, one clad in bright green. Alfred fires on impulse, and then hurries over to the children.

"Are you two okay?" he asks breathlessly, getting down on one knee and slipping his knife back into its sheath, but keeping his pistol at the ready.

"Tony's hurt, Mister Alfred!" Angelica's crying, almost hysterical, and her brother's bawling loud enough to wake the dead. There's a large, oozing gash stretching more than halfway down the boy's right arm, and bloodstains dot his shirt. There's a small cut above Angelica's left eye, and she's a bit bruised here and there, but otherwise she looks relatively unharmed.

"Don't you worry, hun," Alfred soothes, picking Anthony up and cradling him in the crook of one arm. The child wails and buries his face in Alfred's shirt. "Everything'll be fine. I'll get you to your mama, don't you worry. Angelica, can you climb on my back?" He turns his attention to the girl, who nods shakily and moves to comply. She wraps her arms around Alfred's neck, and as he carefully gets to his feet, he can feel her knees clamp tightly onto his sides.

"You got it?" he asks, gasping slightly against her chokehold around his throat. He feels her nod. "'Kay, then, now hold on tight!" He takes off again, trying to make his gait as even and smooth as possible, while still covering the maximum amount of distance.

"_Cào ni zuzōng shíbā dài! _" The vehement curse makes Alfred snap his head around and dash off toward the sound. A Reaver goes flying by his head, and Alfred represses the insane urge to laugh hysterically. Yao fixes him with an annoyed look before slamming another Reaver to the ground. There are bodies littering the dirt around the smaller man like scattered leaves, making it look like a hurricane has just swept through the street.

"Took you long enough, aru," he snaps as Alfred jogs up to him, but the taller nation can hear the relief in his voice that Yao doesn't even bother to hide. "What did you do, take the scenic route?"

"Even got us some souvenirs," Alfred replies as cheerfully as he can. He deposits the squalling toddler in a somewhat startled Yao's arms before jerking his head toward the horde of Reavers bearing down on them. "I suggest we start runnin' now." The two bolt.

"What are Reavers doing attackin' a town this size?" Alfred asks as they run. "I knew they were gettin' bolder an' all, but still!"

"They must be desperate," Yao answers grimly.

"Can't argue there." Alfred cranes his neck to look at the decrepit ship. An idea pops into his head. "Y'know, if I could get my hands on some heavy-duty firepower, I bet a well-placed round could knock off one of them engines."

"And where," Yao pants as he sidesteps a wild swing from a Reaver and Alfred blasts a neat hole in its skull, "would you get weaponry like that? It's not as if the sheriff's office carries antiship rounds in their arsenal."

"You never know." Suddenly, a sharp, stabbing pain lances through Alfred's torso, making him gasp and almost tumble to the ground. It's as if his heart is being pierced with a hundred needles, while at the same time, it's being pulled out of his chest. Beside him, Yao wheezes and clutches his chest. Then, as suddenly as the pain has come, it's gone. He shoots Yao a befuddled look, and finds the long-haired nation returning it. What in the 'Verse…? Then, out of the corner of his eye, Alfred sees fire.

"DUCK!" Alfred reaches behind him, grabs Angelica, and pulls her in front of him as he throws himself underneath a parked wagon, protectively curling around her small body just as another explosion rocks the earth.

They stay like that for a few moments as the ringing in their ears diminishes. Alfred pulls back a little and brushes Angelica's hair out of her face. "You okay, honey?" She nods, not bothering to remove her face from where it's buried in his shirt. "You're a brave girl, a very brave girl, did you know that?" he soothes, holding her close as he shimmies out from underneath the wagon.

"Yao?" he calls, getting to his feet with Angelica still in his arms. He looks around wildly, trying to catch a glimpse of his friend. His heart nearly stops as he catches sight of a scrap of green cloth, blowing in the wind beside a large heap of rubble from a destroyed building. He's there in an instant, and he sets Angelica down before he starts shoving aside chunks of rock and timber as if they're only sticks and pebbles. She screams, and he whips out his pistol and fires to the side without ever taking his eyes off the pile. A thud follows the shot, and he shoves the gun back in its holster and keeps working.

"Yao?" He's unable to keep the note of panic out of his voice. "C'mon, answer me, buddy! Say what an idiot I am! Say that I eat too much! Say that I snore when I sleep (even though I do not/i)! Say _anything_, _gorramit_! You better not be unconscious, you hear me?"

"_N__ǐ__ céngjīng juék__ǒ__u, xi__ǎ__o l__ǎ__oh__ǔ__?_" comes a faint voice, tight and strained with pain. Alfred sighs in relief and crouches down, peering into the dark hole he's created.

"That works, too." The blonde smiles tightly, eyes adjusting to the gloom. What he sees isn't good. There's a large piece of rebar impaling Yao's back, pinning him to the ground, and the whole right side of his body is crushed under the rocks and wood. His head is turned toward Alfred, and the American nation can see blood trickling from his nose and the corner of his mouth. One arm is still curled protectively around Anthony's still body.

"How's the kid?" Alfred asks worriedly.

"He still breathes," comes the weary, labored reply. Yao coughs up more blood before continuing. "It would be nice if we could get out of here, though, aru."

"Oh! Right." Alfred works quickly, Angelica helping him where she can. He has to shoot three more Reavers before they're through, but they soon clear enough of the rubble to expose the two prone bodies. Angelica picks up her brother, while Alfred kneels by Yao's side.

"I'm gonna kill them," Alfred growls darkly, as his eyes travel over his companion's shattered body. Sure, Yao'll be perfectly fine in a couple hours or so, but in the meantime, he's still obviously in a lot of pain. When Alfred gets his hands on those- no, no time to think about that at the moment; that piece of rebar has to come out _now_.

"This is gonna hurt," he warns the other, holding him down with one hand to keep him from struggling while his other grasps the piece of rebar. Yao's only response is to close his eyes and clench his one working hand into a fist, setting his teeth resolutely. Without preamble, Alfred wrenches the metal rod up and out of Yao's body in one smooth motion. The man convulses once involuntarily as the rebar is pulled free, giving a stifled cry of agony that makes Alfred's heart clench. Blood spills out of the deep wound, staining Yao's dark red overcoat an even darker crimson.

Throwing the bloodstained shaft bar to the side, Alfred gathers Yao into his arms, holding the injured nation as if he weighs next to nothing. "Stay here, Angelica," Alfred says to the girl, turning to fix her with a stern glare. "I'll be right back for you. But I need you to stay _right here_, you understand?" She nods shakily, holding her unconscious brother close to her chest.

Alfred then sprints over to a small cellar behind one of the houses. Wrenching one of the doors open, he makes his way down the steps and lays Yao down on a stack of flour sacks. "I'll be right back," he promises, taking the stairs two at a time to get back up into daylight. Running as fast as he can to the children, he snatches them both up and bolts back to the cellar.

"Okay, here's what we're gonna do," he tells Angelica as he pulls the door shut behind him. "You stay here with your brother and Yao. I'm gonna go see if I can end this." He sets Anthony down beside Yao, and turns to leave. Suddenly, a hand clamps down on his arm in a vice-like iron grip. Surprised, Alfred looks over to see Yao looking up at him.

"No." One little word, but the raw panic in Yao's dark, pain-glazed eyes is enough to stop Alfred cold. "_Bù zhèyàng zuò,_Alfred."

"Yao, I gotta." Alfred places a hand over Yao's. "There're innocent people out there. I have to see if I can help them." Yao's grip tightens, and he closes his eyes in anguish. Alfred knows what he's thinking. He himself is thinking the exact same thing.

"You better come back," Yao finally says, opening his eyes and looking straight into Alfred's. "_Su__ǒ__y__ǐ__ bāngzhù w__ǒ__ de shén,_ you had better come back. Do you understand me?"

"Perfectly." Alfred squeezes Yao's hand in reassurance, and the older nation looses his grip with a sigh, closes his eyes once again, and falls mercifully unconscious. Alfred turns to Angelica, who looks up at him with watery eyes. On impulse, he unties the blue ribbon from his hat and hands it to her. "Hold onto this for me, okay? I'll be back for it, so you better take good care of it. Okay?" He winks and grins at her. She gives him a wobbly smile and nods. He ruffles her hair and heads back up the stairs. "It's up to you to keep the doors barred. You'll know when it's safe to come out, alright?" She nods again, and he closes the door tightly behind him. He turns to see ten Reavers staring at him with murder in their wild eyes. The image of Yao's broken, bloody body flashes into his mind, and he suddenly sees red.

"Heya, fellas," he says conversationally, cracking his knuckles. "Who's up for a game of baseball?" He bends down and picks up a sturdy piece of broken metal pipe with one hand and draws his gun with his other. "Ever heard of it?" As one, the Reavers rush him. "Nope, didn't think so. Ah, well. Your loss."

Ten against one. They don't stand a chance.

* * *

><p>The look on the sheriff's face when Alfred casually jogs into the yard in front of the his office, pausing only to bash one Reaver's head in with a length of bloodstained metal pipe while simultaneously blasting another's eye out with a pistol, is absolutely priceless. The whole police force, holed up in the station, stares at him as he jumps up on the porch.<p>

"Afternoon, officers," Alfred says cheerfully, pulling on the brim of his hat. "Hell of a day we're having, isn't it? I've come to respectfully inquire as to whether you've got any antiship ordinance in this little establishment of yours."

The group looks at him as if he's grown another head. "You must be crazy," a young lawman scoffs as he fires off a round of bullets in a Reaver's general direction. "We don't have that kind o' ammo." Alfred frowns.

"Pity that. Oh, hey," he observes casually, peering into the building, "is that a barrel of blastin' jelly I see back there?"

"We _are_a mining town, young man." The sheriff speaks up for the first time. "What is it exactly that you're getting at?"

"Well..." Alfred cocks his head to the side as he squints up at the ceiling, "... seems to me that a small boat loaded with a few barrels of that stuff - set up to detonate remotely - and flown into the left engine of the Reaver's ship would pretty much take it outta the sky for good. That thing's in really bad shape, and I can tell that those engines aren't the originals. It's like it's bein' held together with packin' tape and string."

The officers all stare at each other. "You know," one says slowly, "that just might work."

"Valentine, Hyde, Wilder, go track down a boat," barks the sheriff. He turns to Alfred. "I don't suppose you'd know how to wire something to fly whatever they find and to explode the jelly, would you?"

A fierce grin spreads across Alfred's face. "Thought you'd never ask."

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><p>It's taken all their resources and four brave officers have lost their lives, but they've finally managed to secure a small ship and pile about a dozen barrels of blasting jelly on board. Alfred's rigged up a remote demolition button and controls for the transport and is now piloting it through the sky on a dead straight course for the Reaver ship.<p>

"Jones!" Sheriff Jacoby yells at him. "They're overrunning our position! We'll do our best to buy you some time, son."

"Oh, no you don't!" Alfred stalks up to the sheriff and hands him the controller/detonator. He is _not_ about to let anyone else die today, not if Alfred F. Jones has anything to say about it. "I can take care of those _gorram_Reavers. You just get your men out of here alive, Sheriff." The man looks like he's about to protest, but something he sees in Alfred's eyes seems to silence him. Instead, he nods and takes the controls.

"How do I use it?"

"Okay, ya see this?" Alfred points to a small yellow button on the corner of the remote. "That's the detonator for the jelly. You press that right before the boat's about to slam into those son of a bitch bastards. These," he points to four other buttons set in a cross shape, "are the controls. Up, down, left right. You probably won't need to use 'em much, but if that ship keeps movin' around, you're gonna need to adjust its course." The sheriff nods in confirmation and Alfred claps him on the shoulder before running out back into the fray, pausing only to grab his pipe.

_Ivan would be proud. _The thought carries with it an element of dark humor and a vague sense of melancholy. He snaps off a couple shots with his gun and dashes through the throng of Reavers, hoping they take the bait and follow him. Most do, and Alfred's fairly certain the law can handle the rest. He leads the Reavers on a merry chase through the partially-destroyed town, hoping fervently that none of the monsters chasing him have projectile weapons.

Ironically, just as Alfred thinks this, something pierces his shoulder, the force of which almost drives him to the ground. He cries out in shock, but clamps down on his lower lip, not wanting to give them the satisfaction. He stumbles but catches himself in the nick of time, willing his legs to move faster. Glancing up at the sky, he sees the ship loaded with explosives move closer and closer to the Reavers.

"Come on," he mutters, turning a corner down a dark alley way and scrambling up on a dumpster. He jumps the rest of the way to pull himself onto the roof, grimacing as his shoulder screams obscenities at him.

"Come on!" he growls, louder, as the Reavers swarm into the alleyway. He tightens his grip on the pistol and starts picking them off one by one. One of them hurls a tomahawk at his head, and he only just dodges it. Grabbing it and hurling it back at its owner, he climbs up the roof and takes cover on the other side, waiting for them to come up so it's easier to take them out.

An almighty explosion rocks the sky, and Alfred looks up to see the Reaver ship careening out of control, hurtling toward the large, deep lake the town is built near. It hits the water with a huge splash, sending water spraying hundreds of feet into the air. Alfred gives a fierce, delighted laugh, waving his hand over his head and whooping as the ship bobs in the water. He supposes it's extreme luck that kept the ship from slamming into what is left of the town, but he's so relieved and euphoric right now that he doesn't think too hard about it.

He's still laughing as the first Reaver pokes its head over the side of the roof and promptly gets it blown off for its trouble.

* * *

><p>"It's so nice to finally get to sit down for a change," Alfred sighs as he sinks down into a chair, propping his boots up on the kitchen counter. They swiftly get plunked back on the floor again, courtesy of Yao. "Hey! What was that for?"<p>

"Lowlife inn or not, we must still show respect to our hosts, aru," the Chinese nation reminds him sternly. "Plus, your boots are filthy, and I am trying to prepare food here."

"Okay, okay, sorry." Alfred brushes the dirt and who-knows-what-else off the counter. He shoots a surreptitious glance at Yao as the other bustles around the small kitchen with a carving knife in one hand and a large bunch of celery in the other. The other only has a slight limp now, and he carries himself somewhat stiffly, but other than that, he looks remarkably well for a man who had a building fall on him just this afternoon. However, Alfred's worried. He should be completely healed by now. Why isn't he? For that matter, why does Alfred's arrow-pierced shoulder still ache faintly?

Pushing aside those troubling thoughts for now, Alfred reflects briefly on the last few hours after the Reaver attack ended. Over half the town's population had been slaughtered or injured, and still more others had had their homes destroyed by the Reavers' "Great Balls of Fire" as they were coming to be called. Those who still had their homes had opened them to those who no longer had them, and all had banded together to help rescue and treat the wounded. The inn where Yao and Alfred were staying had sustained some minor damage from Reavers and fire, but was relatively unscathed, so one wing was being used for an infirmary, and the patrons were expected to help care for the injured and do chores as part of their room and board. That was why Yao had dragged Alfred with him to the kitchen to help him get started on preparing tomorrow's meals. Those townsfolk with particularly strong stomachs had gathered the Reaver corpses into a large pile for burning. Alfred wrinkles his nose, remembering, and shudders. He wrenches his train of thought off of that track and tries to focus on something else, something more pleasant.

He catches a glimpse of satiny blue out of the corner of his eye, and a small smile quirks one corner of his lips. At least Angelica and Anthony will be alright. Anthony's pretty banged up, but he'll live. Their home was lost in a fire, but their mother's still alive. The same can't be said for their father, but at least they still have one parent. Alfred would hate to be the one to break it to Anthony that his pet mouse didn't make it, but that's a bridge the family will have to cross when they come to it. They're currently bunking in the same inn Alfred and Yao are staying at, and Alfred has to squash the urge to go and check on them. Reavers make him jumpy, and even though he'll probably never see those two sweet kids after he and Yao leave this planet, he wants to know they'll be alright for as long as he can.

A loud clatter draws his attention back to the present, and he sees that Yao's stopped bustling around and is just standing with his back to him. His shoulders are shaking slightly, and every line of his body is tense and rigid. He's gripping the edge of the counter so hard his knuckles are turning white.

"Yao?" Alfred asks concernedly. He pushes his chair back and stands up. "What's wrong? You oka-"

"_Bái chī._" Alfred freezes, both in confusion and not a little fear. He hasn't heard Yao sound this pissed off in a _long_ time. And Yao is freaking _scary_ when he's pissed off. "_Yu chun __**bái chī**_. Why must your dammed hero complex always determine your course of action in _everything_?"

"Hey, uh, if this is about me leaving you behind in that cellar-" Alfred begins, but he's cut off by Yao.

"You're damn right it's about you leaving me behind!" He whirls around and stalks toward Alfred, his eyes flaming with barely controlled rage, rage that's been building to an explosive climax all day. Alfred backs up, and, despite being over a foot taller than the other man, he feels very small right now. He backs into the wall, and Yao comes up and stands nose to chest with him, craning his head back to look the younger nation square in the eye.

"You promised you would never go where I couldn't follow! You _promised_ me! And then you go do something like this! Do you not have two working brain cells left? _Goddammit_, Alfred, what if..." his voice falters, "what if they had caught you again and taken you away to God knows where? How was I supposed to find you? How could I live with knowing what they were doing to you, day after day after…" he trails off and covers his eyes with one hand, an almost imperceptible shudder wracking his body. Alfred suddenly realizes just how _scared_ Yao must have been while he was gone, with Reavers swarming the place and Alfred out in the thick of it. And Yao had still let him go out there, had let him follow his heart, even though his own had been screaming just the opposite.

On impulse, Alfred grabs Yao's wrist and pulls his hand to rest, palm flat, against his chest, right over his heart. He then places his own hand over Yao's heart. Their heartbeats thrum steadily under their fingers, perfectly in sync, the way they have been for centuries. "Here," he tells his companion, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "Feel. I'm _here_. It's okay. I'm okay. _We're_ okay. I'm sorry I scared you, believe me, but…" he sighs, "I did what I had to do. If I hadn't, there'd still be Reavers running around out there, and most of this town would be dead by now. And those that weren't would be wishing they were."

Yao turns and walks back to the counter, his face unreadable. Alfred follows close behind.

"I know," is all Yao says softly. "Believe me, I know."

"And don't you think I was scared for you, too?" Alfred continues. "I remember what happened… _that time_… too. Did it ever occur to you that I was trying to protect you?"

"You should worry about taking care of yourself. God knows you need all the help you can get," Yao retorts, snatching a random knife and starting to viciously chop up an onion. "And I don't need protecting, _niánqīng nánz__ǐ__ ._"

"Nooo, of course not." Alfred grins teasingly, trying to lift Yao's spirits. "Why, you're old enough to be my great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great-"

"_Xuèxīng de li__ǎ__njiá!_"

"Have I ever told you how much you sound like Arthur when you say that?"

Yao turns, whacks him on the head with a handful of carrots, and thrusts them and a spare knife into his hands, but the thump is gentle, and Alfred can see some of the tension has left the other's posture. "Go make yourself useful, aru."

Alfred salutes smartly with the carrots. "Sir, yes sir!" Yao rolls his eyes and goes back to chopping the onion. Alfred can see a barely perceptible upward tilt to the corner of his mouth, and his eyes are wet. That's probably just the onion's fault, though. Alfred grins and kicks back in his chair again, and as he starts to peel his first carrot, a companionable silence falls over the kitchen.

Neither of them mentions the sharp pain that gripped their hearts earlier today or ventures to speculate on what it might mean or signify. They think (_hope, believe, __**pray**_) that they know what it means, but neither is willing to jinx it by speaking of it openly just yet, or give each other false hope - though they know that the same possibility is on both their minds.

They'll just have to wait and see. But they're good at that, after all.

* * *

><p>As it turns out, that sharp, agonizing pain in their hearts does keep returning. At first, the episodes are brief, with years of time in between.<p>

After about three decades though, the spells start to become more and more frequent, and they last longer, too. Other things start happening, they notice. Their bodies no longer heal themselves as quickly as they used to, for one. Sure, being shot or crushed still won't kill them, but they'll be feeling it for significantly longer than they should. Alfred finds that little fact out the hard way when he and Yao are working a cattle herding job on Ares to get passage off the moon, and the blonde gets caught in a stampede. He's holed up in bed for almost a week afterwards, and it nearly drives him crazy.

The worlds start getting more and more distant from them as well. They haven't been a part of this galaxy ever since the Alliance took over for them all those centuries ago, and they don't really fit in anywhere, but now, it's like everything is foreign, alien to them. This is not their home, not anymore, and that feeling of being surrounded by the unfamiliar only becomes more and more pronounced as the weeks, the months, the years roll on.

And they're tired, oh so very tired. Tired of existing in this limbo for years upon years, tired of all the pain, the death, the tears, the fighting, tired of being the only ones left. Tired in the physical sense too; they start feeling lethargic, achy, and, above all, _old_. Yes, they _are _centuries old, but they're not used to feeling it like _this_.

It's the memories that are the worst, though. Compared to those, everything else is negligible.

_The bedroom smells of his brother: earthy, with a faint hint of maple and the musk of that bear that never leaves his master's side, even when they left the Earth-That-Was behind them for good. The lamp beside the bed is on, illuminating a pallid figure propped up on the pillows, absently perusing an ancient copy of "Life of Pi."_

_Alfred, peeking in through the partially open door, feels his throat constrict and his heart ache at the sight of how pale, how thin Matthew is. The dark circles under his violet eyes have become more pronounced, giving him the appearance of a drowsy panda bear. It would be absolutely adorable, if Alfred didn't hate what they signified._

_As if sensing his presence, his twin looks up, catches sight of him, and grins. "Hey, Al," he smiles. "Come to spy on me, eh?"_

_Alfred makes a 'who me?' gesture. "Nah, just seeing how you're doing is all." He shoves his hands into his pockets and strolls into the room, trying his damndest to appear nonchalant. "Yao and Kiku should be here later today for a visit. They had to make sure Sihnon was ready for a little diplomatic mission first, though. I tell ya, it's amazing how fast she's grown. She and Londinium look like they're twelve already."_

_"Where is Winston, anyway?" Matthew sticks a bookmark in the book and sets it on the side table, beside the lamp._

_"Out playing with that rabid kitten of his. I told him he could." Alfred plops down on the edge of the bed, disturbing Kumajiro, who's curled up against Matthew's other side. The cub rarely moves except to eat or relieve himself nowadays. His master's malady is affecting him, too. Alfred holds his left index finger up. "That thing bit me** ag****ain**. I swear, if that kid wasn't so attached to it, it would be out of here before you could say 'What's new, pussycat?'"_

_"Did she draw blood?" Matthew looks torn between concern and wanting to laugh._

_"Yeah," Alfred grumps. "That's what, the third time this month? It has it out for me, I swear." The other blonde laughs, and it does Alfred's heart good to hear it... until it turns into a fit of violent coughing instead. When it doesn't let up after about thirty seconds, Alfred starts to get scared. "Hey, you okay, Matt?" he asks, getting up and moving to rub his brother's back as Matthew hunches over, shoulders convulsing with each explosive cough. Matthew finally stops coughing, and when he takes his hand away from his mouth, blood covers his palm and drips down his chin._

_"Oh God…" Alfred bolts for the bathroom, snatches a towel from the rack, and runs back, a chant of** no, no, no, no**playing over and over in his head. Matthew takes the proffered towel gratefully, mopping up the blood with an air of calm resignation. Suddenly, Alfred notices the pile of wadded up towels on the floor beside the bed, halfheartedly hidden._

_"How long have you been coughin' up blood?" he demands, gripping his brother by the shoulders. Matthew ducks his head and looks at the bedspread. Alfred gives him a light shake. "**How long,**Mattie?"_

_"Since yesterday," his twin answers quietly._

_"And you didn't tell me?"_

_"I didn't want to worry you."_

_Alfred lets go of his brother and walks a few paces, running a hand through his hair distractedly. "Goddammit, Mattie," he says finally, thickly. "Don't do this to me. Arthur did the same thing. Didn't want me to worry. And then I couldn't be there for him when he died. I had to come home and find out from** you** that he was dead. I…" he trails off, removing his glasses and scrubbing a hand across his eyes before replacing them. "I didn't even get to say goodbye. Do you think I want that to happen again?" He turns back to Matthew, who's gazing at him sadly._

_"I'm already worried, Mattie." Alfred walks back and kneels at the side of the bed, taking his brother's thin hand in his. "Don't… don't push me away because you don't want to hurt me. It hurts more, knowing that you didn't want me there with you, at the end."_

_Tears well up in Matthew's eyes, and his fingers tighten around Alfred's. "Oh, Al," he whispers brokenly. He suddenly sits up and pulls Alfred onto the bed with him, enfolding him into a tight embrace. "It's not like that. It was never like that. I want you here. I want you here, Al. Don't go. Please don't go. I thought I could do this by myself but I…" He stops, clutches his chest, and gives a shuddering breath. Alfred holds him close, and wishes there was some way, any way to stop what is going to happen,** is** happening right there in front of him. He wishes that he could pour some of his vitality and strength into his brother, to stop the light from leaving his eyes._

_Kumajiro, roused by the brother s' conversation, crawls up to them and rests his head on Matthew's lap with a soft moan. The younger twin gives a shaky laugh and weakly reaches over and runs a hand through the bear's soft white fur. "Hey, Alfred?" he asks softly._

_"Yeah?" he answers._

_"Do you think animals go to Heaven? It'd be nice if I could have Kuma there with me. You know?"_

_Alfred squeezes his eyes shut and buries his face in his brother's silken, wavy hair for a moment before answering. "Yeah. I think wherever you're going, your bear's going, too. You couldn't keep him away if you tried." It's hard to get the words out around the lump in his throat, but he manages._

_"That's good," Matthew sighs, nuzzling his head into Alfred's chest. After a moment, he speaks up again. "Look, Alfred, don't worry about me. I'll be fine. I'm going to see Arthur, and Francis, and everyone else, after all. And it doesn't hurt so bad, now."_

_"Is that right?" Alfred's trying desperately to not cry. He can't cry in front of his little brother, not now._

_"Yeah, it-" Matthew breaks off with a muffled grunt and curls inward, pressing his hands to his heart. Alfred holds his tongue, knowing that to ask Matthew if he's all right would just be futile. It's obvious that he's not all right, and there's nothing he can do about it. "It's not as bad as it was," Matthew manages, after the spell ends. Alfred feels something wet on his shirt, and he looks down, hoping to heaven it isn't blood. It's not. Matthew's… crying?_

_"C'mon, don't cry, Matt," Alfred begs, brushing his hair back out of his face. "Is it really that bad? I thought you said it wasn't."_

_"It's not that," Matthew answers, reaching up to touch the tears rolling down his face. "Huh," he observes, looking at the moisture on his fingers. "That's… odd. I… I don't know why I'm crying, exactly."_

_"That's fine," Alfred assures him. "You cry if ya want."_

_"Heh, thanks," Matthew says wryly. His breath suddenly hitches in his throat, and he grabs a fistful of Alfred's shirt in one hand. "Al…"_

_"I'm here, Mattie, I'm here." Alfred holds Matthew's quivering body tighter. "I love you. I know I never told you or Arthur that enough, but it's true. Oh God, I love you so much!"_

_"I love you too, Al. And I'll pass it along to Arthur, when I see him. Take care of yourself and the others, alright?" Alfred nods, knowing his brother can feel it._

_"I promise," he vows. Matthew's breathing gets shallower and shallower, less and less frequent. Then, it stops altogether. His grip on Alfred's shirt goes limp. Matthew Williams, formerly the nation of Canada, is dead._

_His body starts to fade, and within seconds, Alfred is left holding only air. A sob escapes his throat before he can stop it, and he claps a hand over his mouth to stifle it. Kumajiro still lies curled up on the bed, his head still where his owner's lap would be. Alfred reaches out a shaky hand to touch him, and finds that the animal isn't breathing. Numbly, he gathers the cub into his arms and rubs his cheek against its silky fur. If he tries hard enough, he can still pretend it's his twin's hair he feels. He doesn't cry. He can't cry._

_Suddenly, he feels himself pulled into a tight embrace. His head is pushed gently against another's chest and a familiar, soft, sorrowful voice says, "Cry, Alfred. It's alright." The dam breaks then. Safe for the moment in Yao's arms, Alfred pulls his brother's dead bear closer, bows his head, and bawls like a baby._

_Three and a half decades later, when Kiku finally goes the way of the rest of their kind, Alfred finds himself returning the favor for Yao._

Alfred wakes up crying. He takes a deep, shuddering breath and lets it out slowly, before he throws off the thin blanket covering him, sits up, and swings his legs over the side of the bunk. The cold floor shudders beneath his bare feet, sending faint vibrations up his legs. It's a nice feeling and soothes some of the raw pain still eating away at his heart. He reaches up and brushes off some of the wetness covering his cheeks. A muffled sob makes him look up and across from him, and he finds Yao sitting on the far end of his bunk, his head in his hands. His shoulders are shaking slightly.

Yao looks around at Alfred's movement, and two pairs of watery eyes meet. This isn't a new occurrence. They both thought they had put these memories behind them, the memories of watching their friends and families die, the recollections of their histories and cultures forgotten in the mists of time. Unfortunately, this new condition brings those memories and emotions to the surface, reopens old scars, and makes them bleed afresh.

"Who was it this time?" Alfred asks quietly.

"Ka Lung. And Mei," Yao answers after a moment. He wipes his face on his sleeve and glances back at Alfred. "You?" Alfred swallows hard.

"Matthew, mostly. And Kiku, at the end." Silence falls after that, broken only by the thrum of the engines on the ship they've booked passage on.

They both stop sleeping entirely soon after that.

* * *

><p>It's only a matter of time now. Alfred and Yao can both feel it, and the thought brings with it only a feeling of deep relief. But they have a few things to take care of first.<p>

"Julie!" Alfred beams, striding up to the tall young man and pumping his hand vigorously. "Howya been, kid?" The Alliance looks aghast for a moment at the sight of his predecessors standing there inside his military base, but he quickly recovers himself and pulls his hand away, flexing his fingers slightly. Alfred's grin grows wider. He hadn't been exactly gentle.

"Perfectly fine before you showed up, Alfred," he says stiffly. "How in the 'Verse did you get in here?"

"Mr. Chou, do you know these men?" an officer says, looking over Alfred and Yao as if he'd like to throw them out the nearest airlock with the rest of the garbage. The Alliance opens his mouth to respond, and Alfred grabs him in a headlock and starts giving him a noogie.

"Awww, we go way back, don't we, Julie-kins?" A few soldiers snigger behind their hands.

"If you will please _desist_!" The Alliance finally manages to squirm away from Alfred's chokehold and glares at Alfred and Yao. The former looks incredibly pleased with himself, while the latter looks like he's trying very hard not to laugh.

"Shall I arrest them, sir?" The officer who spoke before looks a tad too eager at the prospect. Julius looks very tempted for a couple moments, but he shakes his head.

"No, Lieutenant Parson. I will speak to them privately in my office. And don't worry; they'll be leaving _quite soon_." He glares at the two ancient nations as he says this last bit, turns on his heel, and stomps off down the hall.

"God, that's so damn satisfyin'," Alfred mutters to Yao as they follow him.

"Indeed." Yao's eyes are twinkling faintly with amusement.

"Excuse me, sirs?" a young private speaks up. She looks like a new recruit. "Forgive me for prying, but… are you and Mr. Chou somehow related?" Alfred and Yao glance at each other, and then back at the young woman.

"Absolutely not," Alfred says shortly, and hurries off down the hall, muttering to himself under his breath. Yao smiles apologetically at the woman.

"Forgive my companion," he tells her politely, giving her a quick bow. "He is… not himself at the moment. And as for the answer to your query, it is… complicated." She nods in understanding, and he hurries after the younger nation.

"You were quite rude back there, Alfred, aru," Yao scolds him sternly.

"I just hate it when people think were related to that guy," Alfred glowers.

"Be that as it may, it's no reason for you to be rude. And _technically_-"

"Don't!" Alfred makes a face like he just saw something dead and rotting on the floor. "I don't wanna hear it! I've said it before, and I'll say it again: that is not my kid, an' he never will be. Besides, just… ew. No. _No_. Just, just… no." He shudders dramatically.

Yao chuckles. "Well, he _is_ the _Anglo-Sino_ Alliance," he reminds him. "And need I remind you, we were that Alliance before he was. It only makes sense that he would take on traits from both of us."

"Yeah, but…" Alfred gestures wildly with his hands before finally throwing them up in resignation. "Ugh, I give up. Let's just say it's complicated and leave it at that, a'right?"

"You will get no argument from me there, my friend." Yao smiles in indulgent amusement at Alfred's discomfiture, and then they enter the Alliance's office. The young, powerful nation is currently in the process of retying his tousled shoulder length hair back into a ponytail, and as he drops his arms and turns his eyes toward the his predecessors, it's very easy to see how the soldier made her initial assumption.

The young man looks like someone took the genes for both Yao and Alfred and tossed them in a blender on purée for a minute or two, with him as the result. He is tall, quite tall, though an inch or two shorter than Alfred, with a lithe, sturdy build. His skin is a shade somewhere between Yao's pale bronze and Alfred's peachy tan, and his almond shaped eyes are a dark, fathomless midnight blue. His hair, shoulder length, is a dirty blonde, Alfred's wheat field gold streaked with Yao's seal pelt brown.

"I'll get right to the point," Julius says without preamble, crossing his arms and glaring at the two wanderers. "What do you want, when are you leaving, and _rúhé shénshèng dì dìyù_did you get in here?"

"Why, Julie, I'm hurt!" Alfred places a hand over his heart. A minor spasm tears through his body, and he grimaces for a split second before continuing. Yao feels a pang go through his own heart, but lets no outward sign of his pain appear on his face. "Can't we just want to talk?"

"When have you _ever _wanted to just talk? And how many times have I respectfully requested you not call me that?" Julius grinds out between clenched teeth.

"Oh, I don't know," Alfred replies breezily. He casually turns to Yao. "How many times has it been?"

"Hm. At least seven hundred. Probably more."

"There, ya see?"

The Alliance pinches the bridge of his nose, looking like he's on the verge of an epic migraine.

"We're dying, Julius," Yao suddenly says without preamble, taking momentary pity on the younger nation. Julius' head snaps up so fast that the two older men can hear his vertebrae crack.

"Wait…" he says, the wheels visibly turning in his head. "Haven't you both been doing that for the past, oh, _three centuries_?"

"Yeah, but this time it seems like it's stickin'." Alfred leans against the wall and crosses his arms. "We don't got a lotta time left, and we wanted to make sure some things get done 'round here before we go."

"What Alfred means is," Yao continues, "we have a couple requests, aru."

Julius seems to ponder this for a minute, a myriad of emotions crossing his handsome face in rapid succession. "Alright. Shoot," he replies finally.

"One." Alfred checks the points off on his fingers as he lists them. "On Londinium, there's a small crypt at the base of Mount Dorset, just outside Lion's Park. Make sure it's never disturbed, if you please. Winston already knows this, but we thought we'd pass it along.

"Two. For the love of God, do something about those _gorram _Reavers already! They're just gettin' bolder and more numerous, and it's only a matter of time before they decide to start knockin' on some of your doors. If I were you (and I'm so glad I'm not), I'd take them out first before push comes to shove. It'd be nice if you would start cleaning up the messes you make. Just sayin'.

"And three." Alfred walks up to the Alliance, and claps him on the shoulder. "Take care of your family. At the end of the day, they're all you've really got. And yes, that includes the outer planets, too. I know it's not always easy runnin' this madhouse, but, despite all my bitchin' about it, you've actually been doin' a pretty good job of it so far." He drags the young man into a brief hug. Julius looks like his brain just short-circuited, but he still has the presence of mind to return it. "Good luck, kid." With that, Alfred pulls away, turns on his heel, and walks out of the office, giving a small wave of his hand in farewell. Julius blinks after him, a somewhat stunned expression still on his face.

"Did he just…" Julius looks at Yao in disbelief.

Yao rolls his eyes and smiles fondly. "I believe he did. And trust me, it was hard for him to say it, but he meant it. But about our requests, aru."

"The first I can definitely promise you," Julius answers. "As for the second… that'll be infinitely harder. But I'll see what I can do. And as for the third..." He shrugs. "Well, you know what family is like, I'm sure."

"I do," Yao replies, a brief pained look crossing his face before it disappears. "I also know they're worth all the heartache and pain they may cause you." He bows. "Farewell, Julius Chou. We will not meet again."

Julius returns the bow. "I know we've had our disagreements in the past, but… I'll miss you old geezers." He gives a lopsided grin, and Yao returns it, then departs. He finds Alfred leaning against the wall further down the hall folding something out of a piece of stationary he apparently swiped from the Alliance's desk. His tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth in concentration, and he gives a bright smile as he holds it up in front of his eyes, apparently admiring it.

"What in the 'Verse are you doing, aru?" Yao asks as he catches up. Alfred pushes off the wall, and the two walk off. He hands the Chinese nation an origami flower.

Yao's eyes widen slightly in surprise. "That's… quite good, Alfred. Who is it for?"

Alfred takes it back after the other inspects it and points. "Her." He indicates the soldier from before, who is currently posted outside an important-looking office. "Could ya wait here a moment?" Yao smiles and takes a seat on a bench as Alfred walks up to the young lady and presents her the flower with dramatic flourish. Her cheeks turn an adorable shade of pink, and she smiles brightly and nods as Alfred says a few words. They shake hands amiably, and as Alfred walks back, Yao sees the young woman tuck the pale gold paper flower into the mesh on her helmet.

"What was that all about?" Yao has a pretty good idea, but he wants to hear Alfred's explanation.

"Just apologizin' for my behavior earlier is all." Alfred shrugs nonchalantly. "She seemed to take it well, enough, though. Nice girl."

Yao just chuckles and shakes his head.

* * *

><p>"I didn't want to say it before, but you two look terrible. Give it to me straight. You're dying, aren't you?"<p>

Alfred takes a sip of his tea and sets it down on the opulent, glass-covered table before replying. "How'd you guess?" he asks wryly. Sihnon gives him a look that reminds him so much of Vietnam that it's uncanny.

"Well, let's see. You're both too thin, even though we don't need to eat, so you shouldn't be losing weight at all; you move like every action you take might shatter you; and if those bags under your eyes are any indication at all, you're both utterly exhausted. That doesn't exactly scream 'I'm in excellent physical condition,' to me." She tucks a lock of her long, styled hair behind an ear and leans forward slightly. "So tell me, _Měiguó_. How long do you have?"

"'Bout a month, I expect." He sees no reason to lie to her, and she's a sharp one, anyway. She deserves to know.

She reaches across the table and takes his hand in hers. It's cool and soft, and a faint smell of jasmine emanates from her. "I'd say I'm sorry, but I know you two are probably relived about this," she says, rouged lips trembling slightly. "So I'll just say right now that even if no one else will, I'll miss you. I know Winnie will too."

Alfred gives her a gentle smile and squeezes her hand. "We would have gone to visit him, too, but we don't have much time, and Yao really wanted to visit here one last time. We sent a wave to Winston, though, so he should be here sometime tonight. But anyway, you know Yao loves your planet. It reminds him of home." He turns to look out the window of Sihnon's mansion and sees Yao wandering among her large, lush garden, filled with many different kinds of oriental plants. Even from this distance, Alfred can see the wistful expression on his face as he gently touches a thriving bamboo shoot. He turns back to Sihnon, who's looking at Yao with a melancholy smile.

"It wasn't that far out of the way, so I decided to humor him." He grins. "And besides, the food's good. How could I refuse?"

Sihnon grins cheekily back at him. "Is that all that's good?"

"No, the company is very pleasant, too." He reaches over and pats her arm. "Thank you for taking us in on such short notice, Akiko."

"Now what kind of hostess would I be if I couldn't make time for my two 'uncles'?" she asks, pouring him some more tea. "And if it's the last time I'll ever see you, well…" She shrugs, looking down at her lap, her long lashes hiding her honey brown eyes. "No government function is more important than getting to say goodbye." Alfred is touched, though he doesn't say so. They sit in silence for a moment, before Akiko speaks up again, softly. "Do you know where you'll go?"

"Yeah, we got a place in mind. You can see home from there, on a clear night."

"You mean the Earth-That-Was?"

"Well, not the planet, but the galaxy it's in, yeah, you can see it."

"Will you tell me about it?" she asks eagerly.

"About Earth?" He gives a surprised chuckle. "Hun, there's nothing I'll say that you haven't heard before."

"I don't care. Just talk to me. Tell me about my history, because whether my people remember or not, _I_ want to. Winston wants to. Who else will remember, when you're gone?" Her round, pretty face looks so earnest that Alfred can't help but oblige.

He's still talking when Yao comes back inside. Londinium arrives some time later, and together, America and China tell two of the last beings in the universe who still want to remember them about their heritage, long into the night and into the wee hours of the morning.

* * *

><p>It costs them nearly the last of their strength, but they finally make it to the small moon on the edge of the terraformed galaxy. They both start coughing up blood at the exact same time about halfway into their journey, and they're worried that they might not make it, but by some miracle, they do.<p>

Jericho isn't a terribly populated moon, but even they don't attract much attention as they disembark from the clunky freighter they booked passage on and slip away into the wilderness surrounding the little town, toward the mountain jutting up into the sky blue atmosphere.

"Wish… we could have… rented a transport… or a couple… of horses… or _something_.," Alfred gasps out between pants, as the two dying nations laboriously make their way up a steep mountain path to their destination.

"Yes, but then… who would know where … to look for them… when we died?" Yao stumbles and falls to one knee, hissing sharply as another burst of terrible pain spears both their hearts. Alfred almost follows him, but he catches a rock ledge on the way down, and thus keeps himself standing. Barely. He reaches down and helps the smaller man to his feet, pulling one of the his arms around his waist and looping one of his own around Yao's to give them both more support.

"You have… a point," the tall blonde admits, and then silence falls for the rest of the journey, neither of them having the strength to speak more.

They finally make it to a clearing about halfway up the mountain and almost collapse on a patch of thick green grass just as the sun is going down.

"Wait just a sec." Alfred lets go of Yao and shrugs off his overcoat, spreading it on the ground for them to sit on while they wait. He then reaches into his knapsack and pulls out something that's been his prized possession for more than eight centuries. He pulls on the old leather bomber jacket, giving a small, appreciative shiver as its familiar warmth envelops him. Turning to Yao, who is leaning almost his full weight against a tall rock to keep himself standing, he gives a lopsided grin and gestures to the spread coat on the ground. "After you."

Yao stiffly and painfully settles on the coat, leaning his back against the rock with a sigh. Alfred sits close by him, pulling his long legs up to his chest and staring at the beautiful sunset that paints the sky with vibrant purples, oranges, and reds.

"It's like it was made just for us, isn't it?" he asks softly after a moment.

Yao glances at him, then back at the sunset. "Yes. Yes, it does," is all he says in response. Silence falls as the sun continues to do the same, and the first stars start appearing in the sky. Suddenly, as one, their breaths hitch, and they start to cough. The fit lasts for over a minute, and by the time it's over, blood's seeping through their fingers and dripping onto their laps.

"Didn't think… it would hurt this much," Alfred groans after wiping his mouth on his sleeve, bringing his knees closer to his chest and pressing both hands to his aching heart. "I mean, yeah, I knew it was gonna hurt bad, but... _damn_.." He squeezes his eyes shut and gives a stifled cry as another wave of agony hits them.

"Shh, it will be over soon. Be strong, _w__ǒ__ xi__ǎ__o l__ǎ__oh__ǔ_." Yao puts his arm around the younger man's shoulder and pulls him close so that their sides are pressed against each other. The contact brings a measure of comfort to both of them.

"H-hey, Yao?" Alfred speaks up after a couple more minutes.

"Hm?"

"T-thank you."

"For what?" The ancient nation looks at him curiously.

"For being there. For a-all those years. I don't know if I coulda borne it, all those centuries of wanderin' the 'Verse, if you hadn't been there. I don't think I have the words-" They cough, bringing up more blood, before the North American nation can continue. "... the words to say what your friendship has meant to me. An' _Christ in heaven_, that was sappy."

Yao smiles and wearily leans his head against the much taller man's shoulder. "It has been an honor for me as well, America, if I may call you that one last time. Truly. If I had go through it again, I can't think of anyone I would rather do it with." Another jolt of crushing pain, another bout of violent coughing.

"Man, aren't we a couple of saps?" Alfred chuckles weakly when they can breathe again. "We've must have gone senile in our old age, _China_."

"Who are you calling old?" Yao nudges him with his shoulder good-naturedly. A small sob catches his attention, and he looks up to see tears streaming down Alfred's boyish face. "What's wrong? Why are you crying?"

"I'm crying?" Alfred reaches up with one hand, which is trembling faintly from exhaustion and pain, and touches the droplets trickling down his cheeks. "Huh. Ain't that odd. Matt did the same thing before he died. Said he didn't know why he was crying. But…" He grimaces in pain before continuing. "But I think… I think it's because I'm glad. And I'm sad, and I'm scared, and I'm relieved, and it hurts so much, and oh God, how long does a body have to cry before all their tears are finally used up?" He covers his eyes with one hand while tears continue to pour down his cheeks.

Yao reaches up and feebly squeezes his companion's arm. Alfred smiles shakily, places a hand over Yao's, and squeezes softly in return before running his hand through his golden hair and looking up at the night sky.

"You see it yet?"

Yao searches for the familiar star. "There." He points with a shaky finger to a tiny golden speck of stardust. "See?"

"Yeah, I see." The smile in Alfred's tone is evident. He stares for a few minutes, then closes his eyes and rests his head back against the rock, still smiling faintly. "'M so tired, Yao. C'n I sleep?"

The Chinese nation's bone weary, too. He pillows his head on his companion's shoulder and smiles in return as he closes his own eyes. "Yes, _xi__ǎ__o l__ǎ__oh__ǔ_. You can sleep now."

"M'kay. G'night."

"_Wan ān_." There is no further talking after that. Nothing more needs to be said. Their heartbeats grow slower, fainter, and their breathing shallower and more labored. Until finally, their breaths stop altogether, at the exact same time. Their hearts, still beating perfectly in sync, slow to a crawl.

_Thump-thump._

Thump-thump.

…Thump.

…

...

* * *

><p>"Took you bloody well long enough, you gits." Brilliant blue and deep brown eyes snap open at the same instant. That voice…! America stares up to see the whole world looking at him and China with radiant smiles on their faces.<p>

England and Canada are standing there at the forefront of the large group, and America wastes no time. He rockets forward and catches his brothers in an enormous bear hug that nearly sends all three of them tumbling to the ground. He can dimly feel tears streaming down his face, but he pays them no mind, focusing only on the incredible happiness that fills his heart at being reunited with his family at long last. He feels England and Canada's arms hug him back, warm, strong, and _alive_, blessedly alive, and a laugh of pure joy bubbles up from inside him, washing away the weight of countless years of pain, grief, loss, and heartache.

He sees - blurry as his vision may be with tears - China as he's mobbed by his younger siblings, and the two nations' eyes meet in the briefest of moments. And they smile, each knowing what the other is thinking: they're home.

They're finally home.

**THE END**

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes: Welp, it's finally posted. I hope you enjoyed it, and found it as much of an emotional rollercoaster ride to read as I did to write it. :) And now, to the author's notes! 8D<strong>

**1. I don't think it's that much of a stretch to say that Al and Yao would have run into Reavers before on their travels. And if you're wondering what happened in that previous encounter they kept mentioning, well, they were captured by Reavers once. Nothing dreadfully horrible happened to them, thank goodness, and they were actually able to organize an escape with the other prisoners, but what they saw and experienced deeply disturbed and traumatized them both, and they still don't like to talk about it, even among themselves. And if you think about it, if creatures like the Reavers get a hold of you and you can't die…. Yup, "so many things so much worse than death" indeed.**

**2. On that note, if any of you are thinking that Yao's freaking out after the Reaver attack to Alfred was in any way OoC, I have an explanation for you, just hear me out. I think, after living for so long and seeing all their loved ones pass away, there's only one thing both nations fear anymore, and that's being alone. They don't fear pain, they don't fear death, but what they do fear is something happening to their respective companion, being separated, or (heaven forbid) one dying before the other. So, when America willingly exposed himself to the Reavers, when China wasn't there to watch his back and especially in the wake of that little incident we won't mention, China was (justifiably, I think) scared to death and gave America what for for it later.**

**3. And, before anyone asks, China and America are _just close friends in this_. They've just been around each other for so long that any barriers between them or reservations about showing emotion in the presence of the other have been pretty much completely eradicated. I see their relationship in this as something between Mustang and Hughes' in FMA, and Aragorn and Legolas' from LorR (specifically in the Mellon Chronicles mythos). I also imagine there's a bit of familial affection there as well.**

**4. Oh, yes, the flashback with Canada. I shed buckets of tears writing that, I'll have you know. My reasoning for Canada going last out of the rest of America's family is that, well, American and Canadian culture are so similar that I think it'd be awhile before it was all gone. Hence, Artie being dead already. Yeah… I'm gonna go sit in the corner now…**

**5. BTW, Ka Lung is Hong Kong, and Mei is Taiwan. Special thanks to my friend KitakLaw for the corrected translation of Hong Kong's name! ^-^**

**6. Chinese Translations:**  
><strong>Chinese Translations:<strong>  
><strong>Bù Zài Jìmò - No Longer Lonely<strong>  
><strong>Fēi cháng gǎn xiè - Thank you very much<strong>  
><strong>O, wǒ de - Oh my<strong>  
><strong>xiǎo hái zi - Little one<strong>  
><strong>kěxiào - ridiculous<strong>  
><strong>Cào ni zuzōng shíbā dài! - F**k your ancestors to the eighteenth generation! (Thanks to Pineapple for that little gem.)<strong>  
><strong>Nǐ céngjīng juékǒu, xiǎo lǎohǔ - Do you ever stop talking, little tiger?<strong>  
><strong>Bù zhèyàng zuò - Don't do it<strong>  
><strong>Suǒyǐ bāngzhù wǒ de shén - So help me God<strong>  
><strong>bái chī - Idiot<strong>  
><strong>yu chun bái chī – stupid idiot<strong>  
><strong>niánqīng nánzǐ - young man<strong>  
><strong>Xuèxīng de liǎnjiá! - The Chinese equivalent of the British exclamation "Bloody cheek!"rúhé shénshèng dì dìyù - how the holy hell<strong>  
><strong>Měiguó - America<strong>  
><strong>wǒ xiǎo lǎohǔ - my little tiger<strong>  
><strong>xiǎo lǎohǔ - little tiger<strong>  
><strong>Wan ān - good night<strong>

**7. Finally, I'd just like to say a great big thank you to my good friend and initial creator for this crossover, PwnedByPineapple for answering all my incessant questions about her head-canon for this 'verse, being my beta reader, and just taking the time to talk to me and give me feedback. It's very much appreciated, hun! You're the best!**


End file.
